


Employee of the Month

by WhosInTheAttic



Series: Trope Bingo: Round 2 [1]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Locked In, Rivals to Lovers, Trope Bingo Round 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-31
Updated: 2013-07-31
Packaged: 2017-12-21 23:10:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/906060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhosInTheAttic/pseuds/WhosInTheAttic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rose glared across the sales floor at Mr. Henrik’s new golden boy. Well, she called him Golden Boy; everyone else called him the Doctor. Which was bloody stupid, because he wasn't a doctor, he wasn’t at uni to become a doctor. He was just some skinny bloke in a posh suit with ridiculous hair, and she didn't take kindly to him swanning in and stealing her commissions out from under her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for Round 2 of [Trope Bingo](http://trope-bingo.dreamwidth.org/). I'm going for the simultaneous double-line, and this fic fulfills my 'rivals to lovers' and 'locked in' squares. You can look at my bingo card [here](http://whosintheattic.livejournal.com/13207.html). This is the first time I've written this sort of AU, and I had a lot of fun! I hope you enjoy it!

_That bloody git_ , Rose thought as she glared across the sales floor at Mr. Henrik’s new golden boy. Well, she called him Golden Boy; everyone else called him the Doctor. Which was bloody stupid, because he wasn’t a doctor, he wasn’t at uni to become a doctor, and—

“Good afternoon, Rose!” the bane of her existence greeted her cheerily.

“Hey John,” she said, barely glancing up from the sweaters she was folding.

“How are you today?” he asked brightly.

“ ‘m fine, thanks. You?” her tone was flat and uninviting; but, thick as he was, he didn’t take the hint.

“Oh, I’m very well. I had a picnic in the park yesterday. It was lovely.”

“It was rainin’ yesterday,” she looked up, an eyebrow quirked.

“Yes, it was,” he shifted on his feet, “Sunny days aren’t the only beautiful days,” he smiled. “Would you care to take your break with me?”

“No, ta. I’ve still got work to do, sales to make; you know how it is.”

“Alright then; maybe another time.” As he walks away, Rose knows she’s only looking at his bum because she thinks his trousers are obnoxiously too tight and highly inappropriate for the workplace.

**

The Doctor had just finished closing another sale; a nice five-piece bedroom set. After he’d made sure the customers had been rung up, and his commission secured, he may have—possibly… _accidentally_ , even—found himself on the edge of the ladies department; not-looking for Rose. He spotted her by the cashmere sweaters, but just then a customer came up and asked him a question. “Oh, that’s Housewares, mate; straight down to the bow ties there, then make a right; down the escalator you go, and there you have it, Housewares.”

He walked up to her, hands in the pockets of his brown pinstriped trousers. He was fairly new to Henrik’s but was doing really well for himself; he planned to hang onto this job a bit longer than the last few, and it only seemed logical to make friends with his co-workers. Rose was the only one of them who hadn’t adopted his nickname, and she hardly said two words to him most days. She was probably just shy.

He greeted her cheerily with a, “Good afternoon, Rose!” while very pointedly not-noticing how lovely she looked. And he definitely didn’t glance at her bum. No, he didn’t do that; that would be—if she caught him—Sexual Harassment in the Workplace. Very not-good. Very _bad_. Plus a whole extra suitcase full of bad.

“Hey John,” she replied, not even looking up. She sounded almost exasperated. Had that bloke with the tattoos been in again, bothering her?

“How are you today?”

“ ‘m fine, thanks. You?” she responded, and he could tell that she was asking because it was what one did when one was in social situations. She didn’t actually want to know. Short answer, then.

“Oh, I’m very well. I had a picnic in the park yesterday. It was lovely.”

“It was rainin’ yesterday,” she looked up, an eyebrow quirked, and he couldn’t help but grin; it had been a bit rainy, but he’d been able to eat his peanut butter and banana sandwich in peace and enjoy the summer air.

“Yes, it was,” he shifted on his feet, “Sunny days aren’t the only beautiful days,” he smiled, thinking of the feel of the cool raindrops hitting his face. “Would you care to take your break with me?” he asked. He wanted to make sure she was okay, because he knew something was bothering her; he was a very perceptive one—and clever—so it was only about making sure his co-worker was well. It definitely _wasn’t_ because—

“No, ta. I’ve still got work to do, sales to make; you know how it is.”

“Alright then; maybe another time,” he said, and turned on his heel toward the break room.

**

The Doctor took his brown-bag lunch out of his small employee cubby and sat at one of the tables, across from a bloke called Mickey, a mechanic from the automotive department.

“ ‘ey Boss,” he said in greeting. The Doctor didn’t particularly like this moniker, but Mickey was his first friend here at Henrik’s, so he didn’t object. “How are you?”

“I’m alright.”

“Liar.”

“What? I’m always alright!” he said defensively, taking his sandwich and banana out.

“I reckon you’ve got something on your mind.”

The Doctor took a bite of his sandwich and began talking with his mouth full. “Welll, I’m worried about one of our co-workers.”

“Who? Why? What’s up?”

“Rose. Rose Tyler? She works in the ladies department,” the Doctor begins.

“Yeah, I know her,” Mickey smirks inwardly, as the Doctor continues.

“Whenever I see her, she seems like something’s bothering her. At first I thought she was just shy, but now I’m _sure_ that someone’s bothering her,” the Doctor takes another bite of sandwich and Mickey tries hard to hold in his laugh, “Maybe that greasy-looking bloke that security chucked out last week.”

“Oi, it’s not Jimmy Stone that’s bothering her, mate; it’s _you_ ,” Mickey chuckled.

“Me?” the Doctor squeaked. “What did _I_ do?” his eyebrows knit together in confusion, “I’ve been nothing but polite! Believe me, that’s not easy for me. Rude and not-ginger, me; lost my last three jobs to that quirk.”

He takes another bite of his sandwich, and chews in silence for a moment before remembering the original conversation. “Honestly, what did _I_ ever do to upset _Rose Tyler_?”

“She works on commission, just like you, boss. And her commissions are down twenty-five percent since you started working here.”

**

It’s been nearly a week since the Doctor had his little chat with Mickey, and he’s been stewing over it. _Who does she think she is? Angry with me for doing my job! Ha!_ He’s just finished tidying the men’s fitting room, and now he’s ready for lunch.

**

Rose is just sitting down to her meal in the break room, her thoughts stormy. _John Smith has stolen my last commission! I’ve had it with that pretty boy._ As if on cue, the Doctor plopped down in the chair in front of her.

“Why can’t we get along?” he asks.

“What?”

“We each seem to get along with everyone else here, but not each other. And it’s not _my_ fault, as I’m always quite pleasant with you. So I thought I’d ask you why we can’t get along.” Rose just stared at him in disbelief. _Not_ his _fault? Bloody hell._ The Doctor took a banana out of his pocket ( _seriously? Who carries a banana in their pocket?_ ) and peeled it. “Mickey says it’s because you’re jealous of my commissions.”

“WHAT?!”

The rest of the break room falls quiet and the few eyes and ears in the room turn their attention to the Doctor and Rose.

“He said you don’t like me because I make more in commissions than you do,” he says matter-of-factly, grinning as he takes a bite of his banana.

“I…you…you _twat_!” she shouted, before dropping her voice to a growl, “You make more in commissions than I do because you wander all over the store—leavin’ it to Adam to do all the straightenin’ up—flashin’ your aren’t-I-so-impressive grin to every woman in the store with a credit card and a mind to follow unwanted home interiors advice from a pretty boy in a tight suit!”

“I’ll have you know, _Rose Tyler_ ,” he says proudly, seemingly unaffected by her tone, “that I tidied the men’s fitting room just before lunch, and— _wait_ , you think I’m pretty?” a self-satisfied grin broke out on his face as he ruffled his hair and he preened his jacket.

Rose’s face reddened, and because her brows were knitted and she wore a scowl, it was from anger, _not_ from embarrassment. “I think you’re a _twat_! Jus’ because everyone _else_ here thinks the sun shines out of your arse doesn’t mean _I_ have to, _John Smith!_ ” She got to her feet and dumped her half-eaten lunch into the trash before storming out of the room.

**

The Doctor sat in his chair, baffled. He turned to look at one of the stunned witnesses seated at another table, “Am I _pretty_?” he asked a short ginger girl from the shoe department.

“Yeah, Doctor. Pretty _and_ thick,” she giggled and made her exit, the rest of the break room’s occupants following closely behind. _Thick? Was_ he _thick?_ He began to replay their conversation in his head. “Bugger,” he said scrubbing his hands over his face. _I_ am _thick. Mr. Thick-Thick-Thickety-Thickface from Thicktown, Thickainia; that’s me._

He had to find a way to fix this, to patch things up with Rose; to save his job. No other reason.

**

“Did you really call the Doctor a twat?” Shireen asked.

“Twice,” she grinned.

“Why’d you go and do that for?!”

“He _is_ a twat! Swannin’ off with _my_ customers, _my_ commissions—“

“But he’s really fit, though,” Shireen interrupted, biting her lip, “An’ besides, ‘s not like he’s doing it _on purpose _.”__

__“The hell he isn’t.”_ _

__“I’ve seen it, mate. Last week he was doing the sweepin’ up, and this lady older than your mum comes up to him and touches his bum. Of course she tried to play it off like it didn’t happen, but she was coming on pretty strong. I ain’t seen a bloke look that nervous since Andy took my virginity.”_ _

__“Shireen!” Rose giggled._ _

__“Guess it worked out though; she ended up buying a new set of flatware, some bed linens, and a flat-pack bookshelf—and she insisted that he carry it out to her car, too.”_ _

__“Really?”_ _

__“Really! Course she shamelessly ogled him the whole time, the bint. Can’t say I blame her, but come on! A little more tact wouldn’t hurt.”_ _

__“Speakin’ of tact, have you thought about tellin’ him you’re sorry?”_ _

__“What? Why should _I_ say I’m sorry? _He’s_ the one who walked into the break room last week and said it’s my fault we don’t get along ‘cause I’m jealous that he makes more money than me!” he said indignantly, before punctuating it with a muttered, “ _Twat_.”_ _

__“That is _not_ exactly how it went,” she said, shooting Rose a knowing look._ _

__Rose crossed her arms, “And how would you know? You weren’t there.”_ _

__“Amy from shoes told me; she was there with Lynda. They said it was like a train wreck.”_ _

__“Conductor Twat, that’s him.”_ _

__“Rose, have you ever actually had a conversation with him? _Besides_ what happened in the break room?”_ _

__Rose thought on that for a moment, and realized that other than polite greetings initiated by him, and invites to join him on breaks, she _hadn’t_ ever really talked to him before. “No,” Rose admitted, “I guess I haven’t.” She started to get a niggling feeling in the back of her head and the pit of her stomach that she really didn’t like at all._ _

__“Whatever he said, he didn’t mean it. Not like that, anyway; the Doctor puts his foot in it more badly and more often than any bloke I’ve ever known.”_ _

__“Well, since _he’s_ the one who put his foot in it, _he_ should apologize to _me_.”_ _

__**_ _

__It had been a week since her talk with Shireen; twelve days since her argument with the Doctor. She still thought he was a smug prick, but her friend’s words kept echoing around her head. _‘Have you ever actually had a conversation with him?’_ _ _

__She never really had. She was too busy silently mocking his I-spent-twenty-minutes-making-it-look-like-I-just-rolled-out-of-bed hair, his goofy grin, and the fact that he wore dirty old trainers with his posh suits. Posh pinstriped suits that always seemed to look pristine; Rose scoffed. _Probably has a whole wardrobe full of them, all the same; brown ones for Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, and blue ones for Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Sundays._ The Doctor always had Saturdays off._ _

___‘The Doctor puts his foot in it more badly and more often than any bloke I’ve ever known.’_ Rose thinks back to their exchange in the break room. Had he tried to backpedal when he realized he’d upset her? She thinks now that he did, and even tried to cover it with a bit of bluster; his tone had been more infuriating, but his words were more tactful._ _

__He was still an arse, but they work together. She should at least smooth things over, or rather; let him know it’s safe to approach so _he_ can smooth things over. Lord knows that git doesn’t have the social graces to sort it himself._ _

__**_ _

__He wanted to talk to Rose and apologize; explain that his unstoppable gob always got away from him. Rose couldn’t possibly be jealous of his sales skills; he didn’t _have_ sales skills. She knew everything about the merchandise, and he knew everything about telling the customer what they wanted to hear. He might be gobby and unintentionally rude, but he had always had a knack for falling ass-over-tea-kettle into a strange or ugly situation and coming out of it better than anyone—including himself—would’ve thought possible. This—with Rose—would just have to be another one of those times._ _

__**_ _

__The next day, when Rose walked into the break room and he caught her eye, she didn’t glare at him as she had been doing the last two weeks. When she took her seat, she didn’t put her back to him, either. _That’s a good sign_ , he thought, and worked up the nerve to go over to her._ _

__“Rose?” he said timidly, standing beside her with his hands fisted in his blue pinstriped trousers._ _

__“Yeah?”_ _

__“Can I talk to you,” he tugged his ear and then ruffled the hair on the back of his neck, “About what happened?”_ _

__“Alright.”_ _

__“I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry for what I said. You’re not jealous of me.”_ _

__“Thank you.”_ _

__“I mean, why would you be jealous of me? I sell double what you do and know nothing about the products; it’s the curse of being pretty, I guess.”_ _

__Rose’s eyes narrowed to slits, and immediately the Doctor’s eyebrows shot up. “No! Wait! I didn’t mean—that’s not what—oh _bollocks_!” he said, fisting his hands in his hair._ _

__“Just shut it,” she bit out through clenched teeth. Her face was getting progressively more red, and she was about to start ranting._ _

__“I ‘ave an idea,” Mickey chimed, pointing at a poster on the bulletin board, “It’s almost the end of the month, right? Well, why don’t the pair of you compete for next month’s Employee of the Month bonus? Friendly bet, right?”_ _

__“Are you serious?” the Doctor said, his voice going squeaky._ _

__“Yeah Boss, I am.”_ _

__“Why would I want to—”_ _

__“Because then you can stop fighting about sales.”_ _

__“I don’t think we should—”_ _

__“Why not? Afraid you’ll lose?” Rose interrupted, one arched eyebrow and a tongue-touched smile stopping the Doctor’s words in his throat._ _

__He sprung to his feet, “Alright, fine! You want to make it a bet? What are you terms?”_ _

__“If you lose, you have to quit Henrik’s,” she said flatly._ _

__“What?” he said, settling into his chair again._ _

__“If _you lose_ ,” she annunciated, “ _you_ have to _quit Henrik’s_.”_ _

__“Really?” he said, and his crestfallen look actually took her by surprise. “I thought the loser would buy the winner’s lunch for a week or something,” he sounded even more deflated._ _

__“I’m playing for keeps, _John_ ,” Rose said, “What are _your_ terms?”_ _

__He froze. The Doctor hadn’t really thought that far ahead. “Erm…if _you_ lose,” he tugged at his ear, “You have to use your employee discount to buy me one of those nice long coats,” he grinned, “the brown one. _And_ you have to call me Doctor, like everyone else.”_ _

__“Well, there you have it,” Mickey said, suddenly feeling like another row in the break room would’ve been better than this. “Now you two have to shake on it,” he said, wishing he’d kept his mouth shut._ _

__As Mickey and several others looked on, the Doctor and Rose shook hands and spoke in unison. “Deal.”_ _


	2. Chapter 2

The competition between the Doctor and Rose has been going on for nearly two weeks, and in between her frequent sales, Rose has managed to keep an eye on the Doctor. He flirted his way into female customers’ wallets, and while it irritated Rose at first, the more watched, the more she realized that Shireen had been right. The Doctor flirted with everyone. Everyone except _her_. Rose tried not to go there. She tried to forget that _there_ even existed. She was _not_ jealous.

**

The Doctor was in awe of Rose; three weeks into the competition, and she didn’t even seem fazed. She moved through the store with efficiency and seemingly helped three times as many customers as he did. He watched her as he folded some men’s shirts on the display table, his thoughts stormy as he scolded himself for is unstoppable—and very rude—gob. All he wanted was for Rose to like him, and now she just despised him more than ever. Enough that she wanted him to _quit_ Henrik’s.

He tried not to think too hard about that. He didn’t even care about the bet; he didn’t even care about the money. He didn’t want to leave Henrik’s, because then he wouldn’t have a reason to see Rose (nearly) every day.

Before the week was over, he’d sold a washer and dryer and a rather large telly. 

**

The Employee of the Month announcement was a week away, and Rose was sure to keep an eye on the Doctor. Just to make sure he didn’t cheat, of course. She watched from afar as the Doctor circled a rack of trousers. Then he bent to stick his head between two pairs of brown trousers, and Rose got a very clear view of his bum. Before she could form the thoughts to wonder what he was up to, a small boy—his cheeks wet with tears—emerged from behind the clothing.

Rose watched as the Doctor got down on one knee and talked to the small boy. She couldn’t hear is words, but when a reassuring smile spread across the Doctor’s face as he put a hand on the boy’s shoulder, something within Rose melted just a little. The Doctor stood and offered his hand to the boy, and the pair disappeared around a display, likely to Customer Service to page the parents of the lost boy.

**

There are only five days left until the General Manager announces the Employee of the Month. Rose has had better sales than she’s had since _John Smith_ showed up; her numbers are almost back to normal, and she’s convinced that she’s going to snag the title and the dinky little placard in the break room that goes with it. More importantly, she’ll finally see the back of _John Smith_ and his too-tight suits as he walks out of Henrik’s forever. For some reason, that thought doesn’t make her feel as pleased or triumphant as it did before.

**

The Doctor’s shift was ending soon, and tomorrow was his day off; which meant that Sunday was his last day to best Rose before the General Manager announced his choice for Employee of the Month. He folded the last of the shirts and punched out before partaking in his usual Friday night routine.

**

At last, Saturday night! She was finally free to go home…as soon as she went down to the basement to deliver the lottery money to Wilson… _dammit_. It was such a tedious chore, and Wilson gave her the creeps almost as much as the Henrik’s basement did. She’d gone down there so many times, calling after that git only to find him dozing at his desk or watching telly with ear buds in; chief electrician indeed. 

That in mind, she didn’t bother calling out this time, just walked into his office to find it empty. _Figures_ , she thought, closing the door behind her. She slipped the money into the safe’s drop box before punching in the electronic code that she’d had to learn by peeking over Wilson’s shoulder for occasions just such as these; she wouldn’t be left waiting all night for him to turn up ever again.

“Please tell me you didn’t latch that door.”

Rose spun on her heels to find the Doctor standing in the doorway at the back of the room, wearing… _jeans_? Yes. That was most certainly John Smith standing in the doorway, wearing too-tight jeans ( _that figures_ ) and an old Beatles t-shirt. The dread in his voice makes her forget for a moment that he shouldn’t be here. “I did.”

“Bollocks!” he rushed over to the door and tried the knob.

“What?”

“We’re trapped in here.”

“What?!”

“Wilson told me before he left, ‘Don’t latch the door, it’s broken,’ and I said I’d be mindful of it. Then you swan in here, and—what are you doing down here anyway?”

“Deliverin’ the lottery money, you git,” she pointed at the safe in the corner, “When is he coming back?” The Doctor tugged at the knob again, this time more frantically. “ _When_ is he _coming back_?!” 

The Doctor stops; defeated, and presses his forehead to the steel door. “He’s not.”

“What do you _mean_ he’s not coming back?!”

“He’s. Not. Coming. Back. Not tonight, anyway. Are you thick?”

“Fuck off! You’re not even supposed to _be here_! It’s your day off!” she pushes off the wall beside the door and takes a seat in Wilson’s chair.

“Someone’s bound to come down here. Randy locks up at night, and if you don’t turn up, he’s bound to come looking, and—” the Doctor stopped at the sound of the hall lights flicking off and the tiny window in the steel door going dark. He sank his forehead against the cool steel again and groaned.

**

Five and a half hours.

Five and a half hours since she got locked in here with John Smith of…of…wherever the hell he was from. As she rubbed her temples, she gave herself a mental pat on the back for her patience. Because in the last five and a half hours, John spent at least four and a half of them babbling about anything from water on Mars to edible ball bearings.

**

Rose was sitting on the other side of the room with her head in her hands, looking very defeated. The Doctor tried to take her mind off of things. “Did you know that African Elephants have bigger ears than Asian Elephants, Rose?”

She looks up at him with an expression that’s between exasperated and annoyed, “No.”

“It’s because that’s how elephants cool themselves; flapping their ears. It cools the blood before it re-enters their bodies.”

“Wow.”

“I _know_. Amazing, isn’t it?”

“What’s amazing is that you’ve managed to talk all this time and not use up all the air in this room.”

“Don’t be silly; this room isn’t airtight,” he said reassuringly. He paused for a moment, “You think I talk too much.”

“…And the penny drops,” she said.

“Well, I don’t see you trying to make conversation; if you want to talk, you can. The only reason I’ve been going on about the potassium content of bananas and such is because I didn’t want to pry into your life.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I’d like to know more about you. When’s your birthday? Do you like pears?” he made a face, “Where do you live? What are your parents like?” he hesitated, “And how did you know today is my day off?”

**

Rose blinks at the barrage of questions, some easy, some not-so-easy, and settles on the last one. “Because I work almost every Saturday, and I’ve not seen you once,” she looks at him suspiciously, and for the first time she notices, “and _why_ was your hair wet?”

“Answer my questions, and I’ll answer yours,” he smirked.

Rose thought for a moment that she’d fight off this line of questioning when Shireen’s words echoed in her head again, _‘Have you ever actually had a conversation with him?’_ so instead she spoke. “My birthday is April twenty-seventh. Yes, I like pears,” she pauses to see the Doctor pull a face, “And I live at the Powell Estates, with my mum.” She takes a breath. “So why was your hair wet?”

“I washed it in the sink. So what are your parents like?”

“Mum…she can be intense, and sometimes she drives me spare, but we get along well enough. She’s a hairdresser.”

“And your dad?”

“That’s two questions. You’re cheating.”

“Alright, ask me another one,” he insists, coming to sit beside her. She looks at him for a long moment as he settles himself into place; in jeans and a t-shirt, he doesn’t look like a posh wanker. He looks like any other bloke—except much more attractive. She bit her lip, and the Doctor turned to her, “Well?” she shook her head to clear it.

“Huh? Oh…right. Let me think,” he leans against her just a little bit, so that their shoulders are touching, and she doesn’t move away.

**

The Doctor’s breath catches when he realizes Rose is…possibly—no, _definitely_ —checking him out. He’s usually oblivious to the attentions of women; probably because he spent most of his teen years in an oversized leather jacket, brooding. He was too busy learning everything there was to know about World War II to think about how a girl acts when she likes a bloke. She had most certainly been staring at his lips.

He’s spent a month working up the nerve to ask her on a date; nothing fancy—as if he could afford it—but trip to the chippy would’ve been nice. Too bad he’d bollocksed that up.

“What do you like on your chips?” she asked.

The Doctor returned his attention to her eyes, only just then realizing _he’d_ been staring at _her_ mouth. “Vinegar, of course. Lots and lots of it.”

“Me too.”

“We should get some…together. Sometime…if you want.”

**

Did he just ask her out on a date? No. He couldn’t have possibly…no. If she assumes it’s a date and it’s not, he will think she’s one of those clingy types. “We might do,” she smiled.

“So,” he said, “what’s your dad like?”

“My dad died,” Rose said.

“Oh,” the Doctor said. Oh no! Things were just starting to go well; she’s agreed to _maybe_ have a meal with him outside of the Henrik’s break room. Hopefully without it turning into a row. 

Seeing the panic rise in the Doctor’s expression, and touched his bare forearm. “ ‘s alright; he died when I was a baby. I don’ remember him; just the stories mum always told me growin’ up.”

He slipped his hand into Rose’s and laced their fingers together. “I’m sorry.”

“John,” she said hesitantly, trying to focus on her thoughts and not the feel of his hand in hers, “Why does everyone call you Doctor?”

The Doctor smiled and leaned his head onto her shoulder, his hair tickling her neck and cheek. “It’s my name; or it may as well be. You’re the only person to call me John in about ten years; my mum called me that after I delivered my baby sister. She was so proud.”

“You delivered a baby?” she said, incredulous but impressed.

“Welll, it’s not like I _wanted_ to. But Romana was coming and it was too late to leave for the hospital. Besides, mum did most of the work…wellll, _all_ the work.”

“You’re a great big brother. And son,”

“I was, yeah,” he smiles, proud of his former accomplishment.

Shireen’s words were in her head again, _‘Whatever he said, he didn’t mean it; not like that, anyway.’_ Rose was finally starting to understand that what was on the Doctor’s mind was in what he _didn’t_ say, and _how_ he didn’t say it. There was something in his eyes that she couldn’t quite place, and it was then that she realized she was staring. And he was staring back. “Doctor,” she whispered, and the word loomed large between them.

He leaned forward just the tiniest bit more, “You called me Doctor,” he smiled.

“Figured it was about time,” she said, and with that, she closed the small distance between them, and pressed her lips to his.

For a moment, the Doctor froze under her attentions, his mind racing at the feel of her lips against his. Rose Tyler; he’d noticed her right off, but all his attempts to get closer to her had only blown up in his face. Now here they were; and _she_ was kissing _him_. 

The Doctor wasn’t kissing her back. Had she read the signs wrong? Had there even _been_ signs? She began to pull away, and that’s when the Doctor brought his free hand to cup her cheek. He tilted his head to the side and recaptured her mouth, his tongue slipping out to trace the seam of her lips. She opened for him, allowing his tongue caress hers before chasing it into his mouth and exploring the curves there. He tasted of bananas. Of course he would.

Suddenly, Rose broke away, “Wait, what do you mean _was_?” The Doctor tugged his ear and looked down at her lips. He didn’t want to talk about his family. Not now; not when he could be kissing those lips and forgetting—just for a bit—the events that led to him washing his hair in a sink in the basement of Henrik’s.

“Was what?” he said, feigning ignorance.

“I said you were a great big brother, and you said ‘I was’,” she said, her voice too soft to be truly accusatory. It was a tone that said she already suspected the truth.

The Doctor wouldn’t meet her eye, but when she squeezed his hand, he fixed his gaze on their joined hands. “They’re dead,” he whispered, “My family is dead. Mum, Dad, and Romana.”

“That’s awful!” Rose said, the pain on his face causing tears to prick at the backs of her eyes. She touched his cheek, “When? What happened?”

He’d never spoken about that day to anyone, and once he’d left behind everyone who knew him _before_ , no one knew to ask. He preferred it that way. Now Rose was asking questions he thought he’d never want to answer, and here he was doing just that. “Two years ago. I was away at university,” he paused, and swallowed hard. “There was a fire. A big fire. They…they all burned.”

“Oh Doctor, I’m so sorry,” Rose said, and threw her arms around him. She never got to know her father, but she always felt his loss; she couldn’t imagine what it was like for him, having lost his _whole family_. It was quite a bit like losing everything you’d ever known, she imagined.

She held him close, her lips pressed to his neck. He wrapped his arms around her. “It’s alright. I’m alright,” he said. The tremor in his voice did nothing to convince her. She pressed a kiss to his neck.

That little bit of contact was like opening a floodgate. Suddenly, the Doctor pulled back to look her in the eye. “You are beautiful,” he whispered, after a long pause, and then he pressed his lips to hers. He didn’t want to think about the past, only her. Only _now_. Soon they were entangled; lips and teeth and tongues, fingers curled into hair, hands exploring curves and pulling one another closer. It was only once Rose’s back was pressed to the cold utility tile on the floor that she broke the kiss with a gasp, “Oh! ‘s cold!”

“Sorry.”

“ ‘s okay. Is…is there…somewhere…” she trails off, looking at the desk across the room.

The Doctor follows her gaze and fights back a grin. He looks at her as they struggle to return to a seated position, “Are you sure you want—”

Rose stopped his words with a kiss. “Yes, I want,” she said, bringing her hand to his waist; his t-shirt was riding up a bit and she took the opportunity to run her fingertips across his bare skin.

“I don’t have any…I mean…I wasn’t expecting—”

“I have an implant,” she said, and he covered her mouth with his own as they struggled to get to their feet without breaking apart.

The Doctor backed her up until her bum hit Wilson’s desk. She tugged at the Doctor’s t-shirt and he pulled it over his head and dropped it on the floor before setting to work on the button and zip of her jeans. He should tell her his other secret, he knows he should, after everything she shared with him. But if he told her now, it would ruin everything; she would pity him, and he didn’t want her pity. He wanted _her_. He wanted to touch her, kiss her, tell her what he’s suspected weeks ago and only just tonight was able to realize. He loved her.

Rose’s jeans hit the floor, followed by her knickers. She sucked at the hollow of the Doctor’s throat as she struggled to undo his jeans, and he helped her, getting his jeans and his pants down just low enough to count. Rose reached out and took him in hand, giving him a few experimental strokes, testing his length and his girth. She used her other hand to pull him closer.

The Doctor was trembling with anticipation, his breathing growing more ragged as he felt her hand on his cock, his hands stroking up her thighs as he tried to keep them steady. When he slid his fingers along her slick sex, Rose nipped his lip and whimpered. She shifted her hips and spread her legs a bit more, tugging at his hip with her unoccupied hand to bring him closer. He carefully sank two fingers into her and the hand on his hip slid back to grip his bum. When he curled his fingers just so against her walls, she let out a hiss of pleasure.

Her hand wandered from his backside to his waist, and trailed up his chest, her fingertips tickled by the sprinkling of hair, until they found their way around the back of his head and curled into the hair at the nape of his neck. “Doctor,” she mumbled against his lips, hips struggling to follow his fingers as he withdrew them from her warmth. His hand covered hers for a moment, guiding her movements up and down, then up to the tip again before he brushed her hand away so he could guide his length to her entrance.

He paused there, pressed against her heat. “Rose? Are you sure?”

“Yes,” she said, tugging at his shoulder. Reassured, he slid into her slowly, his breath trembling.

“Oh, that is lovely,” he sighed when he was fully inside. He kissed her lips and she whimpered against his mouth. He broke the kiss and pressed his forehead to hers. “Are you alright?”

She shifted her hips and smiled. “Better than alright,” she whispered, “ _Much_ better.”

The Doctor began to move in earnest, and oh did he feel fantastic. His hands on her arse, her tongue in his mouth, the press of his plump bottom lip, her arms around him pulling him close, the feel of his chest pressing against her breasts…he was perfect. He was perfect and he was against her and inside of her and moving _just there_ , and suddenly that gob of his was off and running again, filth and endearments pouring out in equal measure. One hand moved up to cup her breast and squeeze, and the other slid down until his thumb was pressing against her clit. 

Rose cried out as he stroked little circles against her, and he could tell by the way her muscles clenched and unclenched around him that she was close. So close. He moved his hand from her breast so he could pull her closer to him. “Rose,” he whispered, his breath trembling against the shell of her ear as he thrust into her, his arm pressed awkwardly between them as he continued to rub her clit.

The tension within her was coiling tighter and tighter, closer and closer to breaking. She leaned back on her hands, elbows locked and moving her legs higher up on the Doctor’s slim hips, his bones digging almost painfully into the fleshy part of her inner thighs as he thrust into her. “Doctor! Doctor, I…” she trailed off as her orgasm swept over her.

Rose’s soft moans and the feel of her muscles fluttering against him were too much. The Doctor came with a gasp, pushing deeply into her heat as the pulsing waves of his orgasm gave way to trembling as she brought herself forward again and kissed him, running her fingertips down his sweat-slicked back.

Rose smiled against the crook of his neck. “That was amazin’.”

“It was,” he agreed, hissing and exhaling a shaky breath as Rose’s trembling muscles gripped his softening cock. He carefully withdrew from her and stooped to gather her knickers and his pants. Both of them re-dressed almost timidly.

There was a long pause. “I don’t want you to quit Henrik’s,” Rose blurted, “if I win, I mean. I don’t want you to quit Henrik’s. I changed my mind.”

“You can’t change the terms of our wager,” he said, grinning, “the announcement is tomorrow. Don’t think you’re getting out of buying me that nice, long coat, missy.”

“Oi!” she swatted him playfully on the arm.

**

The two sat up until the wee hours of the morning talking about the Doctor’s travels, his time at uni, and some of the happier memories about his family, about her best friend Mickey and how they used to date, about Jimmy Stone and how he’d stolen her savings. 

“We need to figure out what to do about sleep, Doctor,” Rose grumbled, shifting uncomfortably in the office chair. The Doctor’s eyes darted guiltily to the doorway. “What?” Rose asked, looking over her shoulder.

“Welllll,” he said, ruffling the hair on the back of his head, “I’m not completely unprepared,” he told her, “for sleep, that is. I’ve been…staying here this past week or so.”

“You… _live_ here?”

“Just for now,” he says, trying to cover up his shame with nonchalance. “Usually I sleep in the Tardis, but with the heat wave, it’s just been too hot, and—”

“Tardis?”

“My car. It’s what I call my car. Used to be an acronym; something my dad made up, but I don’t remember it now,” he smiled sadly.

“You’re… _homeless_?” she asked, finally meeting his eyes.

“Yep,” he said, popping the ‘p’ as he stared at his toes like they were the most interesting things in the universe. He brought his eyes to hers, “Please don’t tell anyone.”

“I won’t.”

“It’s only for a little while longer. The home owners’ insurance and the life insurance took awhile to come through…ended up losing the old family home,” he paused, “but the builders have been working on a new place. So it’s…it’s really not a big deal.”

Rose thought it was a very big deal, but she could see the vulnerable look in his eye and knew he didn’t want to talk about it. She tried to push down her concern and her questions. Had be been living rough ever since the fire? Instead, she asked, “ ‘s like camping, yeah?”

**

Once they were curled up in his sleeping bag, Rose was glad her Doctor was so slim, and—as it turned out—he was quite the cuddler, too.


	3. Epilogue

“What? _What?_ WHAT?!” the Doctor said, his eyes squinting in utter disbelief behind his glasses. The name on the placard didn’t read ‘John Smith’ or ‘The Doctor’.

It didn’t read ‘Rose Tyler’ either.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Martha chuckled as she sat down to have her lunch.

“Oh, I didn’t mean it like that, Martha Jones; you’re a _star_ , you are. It’s just…Rose and I had this bet, and I was _really_ looking forward to having one of those long coats,” he pouted.

“Like this one?” Rose said as she rounded the corner, holding up the long tan coat, its blue satin lining shimmering under the fluorescent lights. She peeked around the side, grinning her tongue-touched grin.

“Rub it in, why don’t you,” he said, his lip jutting out even further.

Rose laughed. “This is yours, Doctor. For you. A deal’s a deal.”

“But I didn’t win,” he said, crossing the room to run his fingers along one of the sleeves.

“That wasn’t the bet.”

“Sure it was!”

“No,” she said gently, “If I remember right, the terms were if I _lost_ , I had to buy you this coat.”

“We both lost…to Martha.”

“Exactly. Now try it on, lemme see how it looks,” he grinned as he slipped the coat on over his shoulders and bore the weight of the luxurious wool.

“Wait until Mr. Henrik sees _this_!” he smiled.

“Why would Mr. Henrik—?”

“Welllll, it didn’t come as a real surprise that I wouldn’t get my name on the placard there,” he thumbed over his shoulder, “So I may have, _possibly_ found a creative way to tender my resignation.” Rose’s eyes went wide.

“Doctor…what did you _do_?”

"Oh, nothing really," his eyes twinkled guiltily as he laced his fingers with hers, "Just put a note in Mr. Henrik's office about how I would be leaving unexpectedly; just a letter. Well, a letter and about forty shop window dummies."

Rose laughed. “Seriously?”

Suddenly, a familiar voice bellowed from the hallway. “JOHN SMITH! I KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE. I AM CALLING SECURITY!”

The Doctor grinned and tugged her toward the fire door at the opposite end of the room. “Run!”


End file.
